


Seasons come and go

by elysiontower



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, Trans Male Character, assume theyre trans in anything i write, trans Gueira, trans Meis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:35:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21606163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysiontower/pseuds/elysiontower
Summary: Gueira and Meis have known each other for some time.
Relationships: Gueira/Meis
Comments: 13
Kudos: 76





	1. Falling Leaves

People look at Gueira and see the summer.

Meis can see why people think that: Gueira burns bright. He lets his emotions run hot, unafraid of himself, fearless in the face of the judgement of others. There's the sun behind that smile, shining rays illuminating any room he's in, bringing the attention to himself. It's no wonder he was considered the leader of Mad Burnish once - Gueira is the one who draws a crowd, who garners respect, who can make the quick decisions needed to save lives. 

Beneath his black leather jacket, Gueira dresses surprisingly bright. His bright brown hair, tips dyed brilliant crimson, is offset by the shirts he bought the first chance he got once Promepolis recovered. T-shirts the color of the mint ice cream they buy at the beach, the hue of fresh grass after the dew has dried. Tropical button-ups, jokes about "looking like a dad", some with ocean waves instead of floral print. Meis watched him at the mall, noticed how Gueira's eyes were caught by a pair of sneakers with sunflowers painted on. He bought them immediately. 

The way his voice carries, high pitched and energetic, beats out the chirps of cicada that withstand the harsh noon sun. Gueira sounds almost arrogant when he speaks, holding the same fire as when he led Mad Burnish with Meis, but those flames are merely the confidence to push his limits. He knows he can survive any challenge, knows it's worth it, and Meis has watched him blaze his own path and leave the air in a haze.

Yes, at a glance it's easy to mistake Gueira for a summer wildfire. But Meis has known him for far longer, has seen his darker moments. He remembers the cool autumn nights they spent together, playing horror games in the dark, where a ten-year old Gueira cried at a jumpscare. Most importantly one night in high school, where rain slammed against the windows and the room was blinded by a black ink by the time the sound of thunder was heard not far off. Meis remembers most of all how he could see nothing, only heard the breath next to him, heard the feelings being poured out of his heart as they waited for the power - felt the press of lips against his. The confidence Gueira showed in the night wouldn't see the light of day for another few years. Not around others, at least. For Meis, it was instant.

He treasures the skip in Gueira's step, taking walks together to the grocery store, kicking up his legs as if kicking up leaves. There's an innocence to it, one he missed when they were on the run, that reminds him, now and then, that everything's okay. It's leisurely, and Meis is still remembering what it's like to feel that peace. Gueira's helping him learn it again. 

Meis sees him in the sports he plays, having taken football season to heart. The screen at a convenience store shows a game, and he's staring - immediately flustered when he realizes he's holding up the line. Meis can't help but root for the Dolphins, despite never cared about football before, but nostalgia hits in the strangest ways. Gueira asks sometimes, when they're finally laying together in bed, if he watched them play, and Meis is happy to nod affirmation with that quiet smile. It makes him feel good, seeing the man he loves so excited, being able to listen to him and understand. The glow on his face evokes the comfort of a blanket, of a warm sweater and hot chocolate, and it makes it worth it, if just for him.

The Halloween cheer that fills their little apartment is all Gueira, too. Meis doesn't hate it - it's just how Gueira is, putting his heart into what he loves, and Meis will never complain about that. It brings them together, thinking about matching costumes as they consider planning a party, but the idea dies in their throats when they recognize the children approaching them. They remember having protected them from Freeze Force, and smile at the pleas to go trick or treating with them. How can they say no? It's up to their parents, of course, but they've never forgotten how these kids were bandaged, falling apart in prisons - the couple feel equally responsible for them. They would do anything for these kids. When they get permission, it's no shock that Gueira's the one who goes full steam ahead, children surrounding him and dragging him along by pulling on the fabric of his costume. Meis followed close behind, the slower or more timid kids clinging to him, but the gleam in their eyes didn't go unnoticed as they saw Gueira wait for them before knocking on the doors.

The night after, they talk for a bit. The joy on the young faces that pulled them along, sharing their candy even when they said it's for them - something about it made the two men happy. They wonder if they want something like that for themselves. They're still considering it.

Right down to the way he wakes, Meis sees the autumn. Gueira starts groggy, the morning chill sending a shiver through his bare torso, and Meis can't stop himself from giggling at him. It takes the rays of the midday sun to thaw him, stretching himself as if to get rid of an invisible frost, and he grows warm. Gueira burns hottest in the afternoon, running laps in his spare time, trying to keep himself busy. If seated, he'll be bouncing his legs, clicking pens, sometimes rocking back and forth. 

Gueira doesn't settle back down until the late breeze takes over and the stars are in the sky. Meis has noticed a trend in their lives: the night is reserved for them, and this is more than evident in the way Gueira lays in bed, how he holds Meis in his arms, threads his fingers through his hair, peppers kisses on his face. They keep each other warm, allowing wandering hands on smooth skin and mouths along edges, the whisper of each others' names, and they're satisfied. 

Autumn nights leave time for them; they stick with Meis longest. They've represented everything that Gueira's trusted him with, all the love he shares, the moments he's bared his heart. Meis is more than happy that his lover can show the world his blazing summer rays, can pour out confidence and enthusiasm, but he treasures the piles of fallen leaves within that Gueira has never shared with anyone, save for him.


	2. Flowers Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gueira reflects on his impression of Meis.

It always infuriates Gueira when people call winter "suited for Meis". 

They argue that his expression is ice - he doesn't emote, his voice keeps the same tone. No one sees him as approachable for that reason; if they can't tell what he's thinking or how he feels, they think there's something unsafe about him. When they call his attention, the resulting glare sends a chill down people's spines. Is he upset? Does he hate them? It's hard to tell with him, they say. They don't think he can even feel pain. 

Once, someone had the audacity to say these things to Gueira's face. They asked him how he could love "someone like that". Gueira had to be pulled away after punching them in the eye.

After all these years, he thought things would be different. Years of schooling had outcasted Meis with the impression that he was cold and uncaring, with others warning Gueira that he would sooner throw someone into a blizzard than consider them a friend. Nothing could be less true about the man, and it hurts to know that even now people refuse to see what he's really like.

It isn't Meis's fault that his face rarely changes. Gueira's come to learn that he's hardly even aware of it, nor how others see it, and the redhead feels no reason to force Meis to change that. Instead, he's taken the time to learn the more subtle ways his partner's body communicates: the huffs of breath when he finds something funny, the way he flinches before he eats food he hates, the gentle lean when he's too tired to leave Gueira's side. Meis is a man of few words, but his actions speak louder - Gueira could never find a wall of ice in this man's heart, only an embrace of loving flames that accepted and protected him through a childhood of isolation. 

Meis has only ever been a beautiful spring in his eyes. 

Throughout high school, Gueira had hated himself. Hated his frailty, his schoolwork, his family - he hadn't felt like anything in his life ever went right. 

He can say, without exaggeration, that Meis is the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Without him, Gueira knows that the layer of frost over his own heart would have built into a glacier. Meis was the only one to stay with him over the years, to carry through his own hell in spite of his own life. He hates putting it into words, because claiming "he saved him" out loud feels… daunting. Gueira would never want to put that much pressure on Meis. But he knows, deep down, that he would be a very different person without him. 

Vacations once spent silently at home, depression hanging tense in the air, became spring breaks in Dallas. They were young when Meis told him about his relatives there, about his uncle's ranch in particular, and it didn't take long before Gueira was invited to travel there with them. Playing with the goats, learning their names especially, became one of his favorite parts of the trips. When was it, he wonders, that Meis started to look at him that way? Gueira would have a kid in his arms, the tiny animal's hooves scratching at him and its teeth on his clothes, but he didn't mind - he laughed, the scene adorable to him, and he'd look at Meis to make sure he was watching. Watching, he certainly was; there Gueira noticed, ever so slight on his friend's face, the tiniest of smiles. In hindsight, he also wonders when he, himself, started wanting to kiss that smile so badly.

Maybe there really is a merciful God out there, looking out for them, because it seems Meis has always wanted the same thing - and that was a wish that, God or not, someone out there was kind enough to grant.

Gueira thinks back to their first time in Boston, a trip that only happened because his father's friends insisted on going up there for St. Patrick's Day, and he recalls how his first words at the news were--

"Can Meis come too?"

He remembers the weather, how harsh the cold was, despite the ever-glowing March sun above them. The two of them wandered the streets a bit, wanting to get snacks at a convenience store before getting back to their hotel room, and the gales were ridiculous. Gueira can still feel the wind whipping through his hair, prickling his skin, the only warmth on him being Meis's hand in his own. 

No one knew them there, no one could stop them - for some reason, in that massive, unexplored city, they had never felt more safe. Even as the chill bit through their flesh, the quick peck of Meis's lips warmed Gueira through-and-through before they entered the building. 

All his favorite memories came during spring, so perhaps it's no wonder Gueira sees blossoms in everything Meis does. 

He's not sure when he started thinking about Meis when he looks at flowers. He'll pass them by at the store, stop and stare at them, think about how they look like the man's hair or eyes. Hydrangeas, irises, morning glories, forget-me-nots; Gueira's considered buying all of them in the past, as gifts to his best friend, even before he realized his own heart was in bloom. 

Even the other man's clothing evoked the thought of flora, seeing the beautiful warm hues in his closet. Meis doesn't part with the tank top he wore back in Mad Burnish, its comforting pink reminiscent of the lively orchids Gueira's only seen in photos. He's walked by expensive hyacinths at stores, one with the same pale lavender tone as one of Meis's dress shirts; he remembers it most, perhaps, because it's the one Meis wore the night he proposed. 

Even buried deep in his closet, Gueira knows, is a wonderful chrysanthemum fabric. An old gift, the last one Meis ever received from his family, a dress he could never bring himself to wear. They wonder aloud, from time to time, how his parents would feel if they saw him now, shoulders too broad to fit into the sleeves. 

After so much excitement, so many memories, so much love? Gueira knows he won't ever see how others think Meis is cold. He doesn't want to. He knows what he's seen, he's proud of who Meis is. Gueira knows, as he holds the same man he adores so much, that none of the flowers he's seen will compare to what Meis has done for him, even as he learns to arrange them in ways that express his gratitude. It's never enough, but he's more than happy knowing he has the rest of their lives to keep thanking him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is even more gay word vomit than the last chapter

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to beat my ass in the comments, I wrote this in a blur and it's completely unbetad and that's how it's staying


End file.
